


Be With You Everywhere

by sandwastesinthevoidofmychest



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Greg Lestrade, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Edinburgh, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Oscar Wilde References, Sex, Top Mycroft, anthea ships it, de profundis references, greg finally goes on holiday, literature enthusiast greg, no seriously he adores reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 17:35:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12537444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest/pseuds/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest
Summary: Greg finally goes on a long-deserved holiday to Edinburgh. Relaxed and content, he is surprised when Mycroft joins him.





	Be With You Everywhere

Greg turned off his computer with a smile upon his face, a sense of excitement had overtaken him. The thought of being free of the office, free of London for a week was so foreign that greg was almost afraid of waking up from a daydream, still sat at his desk with piles of reports and Sherlock screaming in his ear.

He began humming under his breath, a  catchy tune he had heard in the staff room, but he had no idea what the song was. He glanced out the window, the sky was a gentle, almost pastel pink. The sun was trapped behind the clouds as it set. He would be taking the dawn train to Edinburgh, it would get him right into Waverly station; more picturesque and simpler than driving and much handier than flying. The extra time didn't bother him, instead he relished it. He was on holidays. It didn't feel real.  
He quickly grabbed his coat, briefcase and a Waterstones bag filled with new books that he had searched for on his lunch break. He was giddy, his smile probably contagious.

Greg locked his office door and was approached by Sally, she was grinning now too upon seeing him.  
"Do you really hate us that much? You haven't even left the office yet and you look ten years younger."  
Greg chuckled, "It's been so long since I've had a real holiday."  
Sally touched his arm, "We all decided to chip in and get you a present."  
"Sally, I'm only going to be gone a week, I'm not retiring." He said good-naturedly, touched.  
"Yeah well, you might have a case of one of the lads punching Sherlock or something to that extent when you come back. You're the only one of us that can manage this place and him." She held out a gift bag that she had hidden behind her back, of which one of the gifts was definitely a bottle of wine. "You deserve the break, now go before you get held up."  
"Thank you so much, really."  
Sally laughed and pushed him lightly forward, "Go!"  
Most of his coworkers smiled at him or gave him a nod of acknowledgement as he passed by. 

He left the office area and was taking the corner to get to the nearest elevator he crashed into another person, his bag of books and briefcase fell to the ground, while he managed to keep his coat and the gifts on his opposite forearm. "  
Shit, sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Greg stood up and came face to face with a sheepish Mycroft Holmes.  
“Mycroft? Is everything okay?” As was usual, his first reaction upon seeing Mycroft was a stomach-churning feeling that something had happened to Sherlock.  
Then, when he saw Mycroft smile reassuringly, the feeling that always follows is a warmth spreading through his chest, and an increased heart rate. 

“I do apologise, Gregory.” Mycroft bent down to pick up Greg’s bag of books, whilst Greg picked up his briefcase. “A lot of reading to be done?” An amused smile crossed the younger man’s face as he held out the bag to Greg.   
Greg could feel the colour spreading across his face. “Holiday reading.”   
“Ah, much deserved.” Mycroft glanced around, “I came here in an attempt to catch you before you left.”  
Greg tilted his head, trying to ignore the anxious feeling spreading through him. “What has Sherlock done?”  
Mycroft stared at him blankly for a second, until he reached out and touched Greg’s forearm gently, “You worry about my brother too much. I came to ask you for coffee, but you’re already leaving and I wouldn’t wish to hold you up.” 

“Coffee?” Greg asked confused.  
He noticed a slight blush appear high on Mycroft’s cheeks as he glanced down at the floor, avoiding eye contact.  
“I believe the last time we met I knocked over your coffee and promised I would repay you.” Mycroft raised his eyes to meet Greg’s and Greg felt the increasingly familiar _want_ that he often did around Mycroft. “And I was thinking that the perfect time would be when you were free, in this case you are on a week’s leave.”

_I’d give anything to spend that week with you._

Greg chuckled, “There’s a nice little place across from The Yard. I’ll just put my things in the car, then get out of here. Come with me?”  
“Certainly.” Mycroft murmured, “Let me carry your briefcase and books, you seem to be rather ladened down today.”  
“What a gentleman.” Greg said teasingly, allowing Mycroft to take his things.   
Their hands brushed against each other, Mycroft’s skin warm enough to sent a spark of something through Greg. He glanced at Mycroft, who seemed oblivious to what had just happened and Greg tried to shake it off.

* * *

 

“Ciggie?” Greg asked as soon as he locked his car and turned back to Mycroft, taking a box of cigarettes out of his coat pocket.   
“I thought you were quitting.” Mycroft sent him a searching gaze.  
Greg shrugged, lighting one and inhaling deeply. On the exhale, he felt the tension drain from his shoulders. “Didn’t have it in me.”   
Mycroft walked alongside Greg silently for a few seconds, “Nor do I, I’m afraid. May I have one?”   
“Of course.” Greg handed one to Mycroft, “C’mere.” He motioned Mycroft closer to him as he held up his lighter.   
Mycroft was inches away from Greg and Greg felt an aching need to touch the other man. He could smell Mycroft’s cologne, it was woody and sweet, and probably outrageously expensive.  
“Thank you Gregory.” Mycroft made eye contact with Greg as he pulled away, Greg could sense there was something going unsaid between them, but he was the first who looked away. He smoked quickly, hoping for the calmness that it usually brought, but here beside Mycroft, he felt nervous and unsure. 

They waited at the traffic lights in silence, Greg having discarded the butt of his cigarette, and Mycroft nearing the end of his.   
“The café is just over there.” Greg murmured, pointing towards a quaint café. “It’s usually not that busy, there’s a Starbucks over that way that gets more foot traffic.”  
Mycroft nodded thoughtfully, “And the coffee?”  
Greg chuckled, “Well I haven’t killed anyone yet after my daily mug so I’d say excellent.”   
To Greg’s surprise, Mycroft actually laughed out loud. “Wonderful!”  
Greg had to stop himself from saying something stupid about how he loved Mycroft’s laugh. They were rarely in such mirthful situations, but whenever Greg was graced with Mycroft’s genuine laugh, he felt like he’d gained ten years of life.

The comforting aroma of coffee hit them both as they walked into the warm café. There were a few people milling around, but Mycroft gestured to an empty table by the window. “Americano?” He asked, but he was sure he had seen Greg drink only americanos.   
Greg grinned, “Please, no space for milk.”  
“As you wish.” Mycroft flashed him a smile and Greg felt his heart doing that worrying stuttering. He found that he was smiling as he walked across the café to take the seat by the window. 

Greg watched as Mycroft ordered the coffee, taking in Mycroft’s form.   
Mycroft’s back was to him, so Greg didn’t need to be discreet. He felt the increasingly persistent longing for the other man.  
Greg had recently found himself daydreaming about what could be _under_ those perfectly tailored suits and often got too carried away. Mycroft glanced back at him when he went to wait for the coffees and Greg could feel himself blush furiously. Had Mycroft noticed?  
A large part of him hoped he had.

The unexpected arrival of Mycroft had only seemed to add to Greg’s good mood and the ever-present voice in his head wanted him to take a risk with Mycroft.

Greg’s blush had faded by the time Mycroft made his way across to Greg. He placed the tray on the table and saw Greg smile when he saw the two slices of chocolate cake.   
“I made the right choice then?” Mycroft questioned as he cleared the tray and put their coffees and cakes before them.  
“Perfect choice.” Greg picked up his fork and took a bite of cake, sinking back in his chair he beamed at Mycroft, “Brilliant, thank you.” 

Mycroft took a sip of his coffee, a cappuccino, and nodded appreciatively at it. “No, thank you for introducing me to here. I’ll definitely be coming back.”   
“Make sure to call on me.” Greg did not look across at Mycroft, instead he picked up his mug and took gulp of coffee.   
“Certainly, if you would like.”   
Greg glanced at Mycroft over the rim of the coffee mug, a glimmer in his eyes. “I would love it.”  
Mycroft looked pleased and they sat in a comfortable silence as they both ate some of their cake. 

“Where do you plan to go?” Mycroft asked, breaking the silence.  
“I’m heading up to Edinburgh, actually.”  
Mycroft tilted his head to the side, “Edinburgh is truly wonderful.”  
Greg smiled, “I love it there.”  
“Why?” Mycroft leant forward a little, his eyes curious.  
“It gorgeous, there’s a little bit of magic everywhere. It’s quite a literary place too.”  
Mycroft nodded, “Any writers you admire?”  
Greg chuckled, “It’ll sound silly really, but it’s the birthplace for Harry Potter.”   
Mycroft’s brow creased, “You are a fan of the books?”   
Greg shrugged, picking at his cake. “I’ve read them. When I was just starting out in the force, I had a lot more free time and my ex-wife and I used to look after her niece and nephew. I introduced them to the series. We got through the first four novels before I started working more, then they moved overseas. I managed to finish them myself.”   
Mycroft’s stare was calculating, a slight frown on hislips. “Are you still in contact?”  
“With my ex? God no.” Greg forced a laugh, picking up his mug of coffee.  
“No, the children?”  
Greg grimaced, “No.” He took a sip of coffee, “Thank god we didn’t have our own kids. It was messy.”  
Greg shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and Mycroft felt sorry for bringing up the subject, none of this was his business in the first place.

“Robert Louis Stevenson hails from Edinburgh, doesn’t he?” Mycroft asked, longing to see Greg smile again.  
Greg nodded, “You’ve read him?”  
“ _Treasure Island_ to Sherlock when he was a child. He wanted to be a pirate.”  
Greg couldn’t help but laugh, “That's sweet. Have you ever been?”  
“Sometimes I have to attend parliament, others I get invited to the Queen’s garden parties at Holyrood.”  
Greg’s eyes widened in surprise, “That's impressive.” Greg sat back, looking pensive. “When's the next party?”  
Mycroft took his phone from his suit jacket and frowned as he looked through his schedule. “Not within the next week, unfortunately.”   
He made eye contact with Greg, who only blushed.

They sat in silence for a while as they finished eating their cake. Catching small glimpses at each other.  
“Are you flying out tomorrow?”   
Greg shook his head, placing down his empty mug. “I'm taking the train.” At Mycroft's questioning look, he grinned. “I’m looking forward to seeing the country pass by.”   
“That definitely sounds wonderful. You won't mind being stuck inside a train for hours?”  
“Not at all, scenery and books, what’s there to complain about?”  
Mycroft could only smile, a warmth sat in his chest as he watched Gregory.  
“What you just said reminds me of one of Wilde’s quotes from _De Profundis_.” Mycroft murmured, taking out his phone.  
Greg chuckled, “High praise being compared to Wilde.”   
He watched Mycroft frown at his phone, and he felt an overwhelming longing to touch the other man.  
Mycroft shook his head, “I can’t find the exact quote, but I will.” He slipped his phone back into his jacket. 

“You like Wilde then?” Greg asked once he caught Mycroft’s attention again.  
An expression that Greg could only class as nostalgic spread across Mycroft’s face. “He’s probably my favourite. Unfortunately in the last few years I haven’t been able to read much apart from political documents and policies, but I always go back to Wilde.”  
Greg nodded approvingly, “You have good taste.”  
Mycroft threw him a pointed glance, “Yes, I believe I do.”  
Greg could feel his cheeks heat up, and knew from Mycroft’s self-satisfied smile across from him, that he had noticed.

They had lapsed into another comfortable silence. The sky was almost dark outside and Mycroft noticed greg’s hand on the table, and before he could really think about it, he reached out and covered greg’s hand with his own.  
Greg startled at the sudden warmth of Mycroft’s hand, and Mycroft immediately drew his hand away, going a deep crimson. “I-I apologise Gregory. I shouldn’t have-“  
“Mycroft.” Greg’s voice was calm, as he willed Mycroft to look at him, to see the smile that had spread across his face, “Mycroft, give me your hand.”  
Mycroft hesitantly looked across at Greg, a hopeless look in his eyes.  
“Your hand, please.”  
Greg was surprised that Mycroft’s hand shook as he held it out across the table, and Greg covered it with both of his own.   
“I was taken off-guard when you touched me. That’s all. It doesn’t mean I don’t want you to touch me.”

Greg saw Mycroft inhale deeply when he moved his thumb in a soothing circle over Mycroft’s palm, then as he looked up at Greg, he looked unsure; the first time Greg had ever seen him like this.  
“You want me to touch you?” Mycroft whispered, his eyes searching Greg’s face.  
“God yes.” Greg had lowered his voice too, and intertwined their fingers and squeezed once, reassuringly.   
They were leaning closer to each other over the table, and Mycroft bit his lip, a look of desperation on his face.  
Greg glanced around them, catching a glimpse of one of the barista’s watching them, while trying to push down the nagging want that had started to flow through his veins. “Myc, let’s go for a walk.”  
Mycroft nodded, “Yes, let’s.” He reluctantly let go of Greg’s hand as they both stood up.

The cold air hit them both as they walked out into the street. They both stood awkwardly beside each other for a few seconds, “Gregory? May I hold your hand?”  
“Definitely.” Greg grinned, happiness sparkling in his eyes as he held out his hand for Mycroft.  
“Where to?”  
“James’s park is only a few minutes away, if you wanted to go there? We could sit by the lake.”  
“Lovely.” Mycroft murmured as they started walking.   
They kept brushing shoulders and Greg tried to push away his feeling of nervous excitement. Part of him wanted to stop Mycroft right there and take him into his arms and kiss him.  
It seemed like he had been wanting the younger man for so long, dreaming about the feeling of Mycroft’s warmth against him.  
Anything that went past their usual, compulsory handshake. And here he was, with his hand in Mycroft’s, his warmth spreading through Gregory and he couldn’t help but to break out in a grin.

As they stood waiting for the traffic lights to change, Greg cast a quick glance at Mycroft and he could almost feel himself melt when he saw the content smile on Mycroft’s face.   
As they crossed the road, Mycroft’s phone began to ring.   
“I apologise, Gregory.” He murmured as he let go of Greg’s hand to take his phone from his jacket. “I told Anthea to block all my calls.”  
Greg waved his hand, still feeling the smile on his lips. “It’s fine.” He mouthed as Mycroft answered.  
They continued walking, sides brushing as Mycroft spoke. 

“How bad exactly? I asked not to be disturbed, Anthea.”  
Greg bit his lip, obviously something bad had or was happening. Mycroft drew to a stop, his brows furrowed. “Are you sure?”  
Greg cast him a worried glance, which Mycroft didn’t see, he reminded Greg of Sherlock’s ‘Mind Palace’ expression.  
“Of course. Yes, outside the Yard. Minutes, yes.” Mycroft frowned at his phone as he slipped it back into his jacket.   
Then he stared at Greg apologetically, “I apologise a thousand times for this, but I need to leave, I’m needed in the office.” Mycroft reached out and touched Greg’s shoulder. “I can walk you back to your car if you would like?”  
Greg shook his head, “I understand. Let’s go then.” As they started walking back the way that they came, Greg slipped his hand into Mycroft’s again, “You’ll be safe?” His voice was quiet.  
A look of confusion crossed Mycroft’s face, “Of course?” Then he let out a small laugh, “Sorry, I’m not often asked that question. I appreciate it.” 

They could see the yard across the road from them, and there was a black Mercedes idling on the curb in front of the entrance. Greg drew Mycroft to a stop under a streetlamp, his cheeks red. He placed his hands on Mycroft’s forearms. “I care about you deeply, Mycroft.” Greg made sure to make eye-contact. “I know I’ve not said it in as many words, because it would have sounded barmy then, but I always have worried.”  
Mycroft looked incredibly touched, staring at Greg and knowing that he meant every single word was somewhat jarring.  
He cast a glance over his shoulder at the awaiting car and then inhaled deeply, turning back to Greg,his hand rising to caress Greg’s cheek.  
“Gregory, I hope you have a wonderful time in Edinburgh, I’ll make sure to call on you when you’re back in the office. Thank you, for tonight.”  
Greg hesitated, unsure whether to move forward or not, but Mycroft’s fingers traced down his jawline and Greg couldn’t help but shiver, a shock of want alighting in his veins.

“Gregory?” Mycroft whispered as Greg cradled Mycroft’s head in his hands, trying to deduce the unfamiliar expression on Greg’s face.  
“Shh.” Greg leaned forward and pressed his lips against Mycroft’s, a surge of warmth flowing through him. The kiss was quick and when Greg leaned back to separate them, Mycroft surprised him as his hand grabbed Greg’s shoulders and he pulled him back, this time their lips crashing together, an urgency to the kiss. Mycroft’s tongue traced Greg’s lips and Greg opened his mouth to give Mycroft access, the taste of Mycroft better than he ever could have imagined. 

A woman’s cough suddenly beside them made them both jump apart.  
“While this is very wonderful, Mr Holmes is needed urgently on the other side of London.” They both turned to see Anthea, arms crossed staring at them with an unreadable expression. Greg could feel his face and neck burning hot and when he glanced at Mycroft out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Mycroft’s cheeks were scarlet.  
“Anthea, apologies.” Mycroft murmured, his voice uneven, embarrassed.   
Anthea nodded once, lips pursed together. “Let’s get to the car, yes?” Then she turned her back and walked to press the button for the crossing lights.  
Mycroft smiled shyly at Greg, as they both followed Anthea across the road. 

Anthea opened the back passenger door for Mycroft, and Mycroft touched Greg’s hand, “Talk soon.” Before getting into the car.   
Greg stood awkwardly on the curb with Anthea, who had always terrified him to a certain extent.   
As she was about to climb in beside Mycroft, she cast Greg a genuine smile, the first that Greg had ever seen. “About bloody well time, isn’t it?” Her voice was low, so Mycroft couldn’t hear her. She seemed more amused by Greg’s expression of shock.   
“Enjoy Edinburgh.” She patted his arm as she got into the car and as soon as she closed the door, the car drove away.  
Greg could only stand there on the footpath, marvelling at all that had just happened, before going to get his car.

* * *

Greg could still feel himself smiling as walked into his apartment. He walked into his kitchen, placing the gift bag on the counter. He had dropped his briefcase and bag of books by the door. He took out a bottle of red wine, recognising the name instantly, one that he had talked to Sally about. It was one of the few red wines the he actually felt were drinkable. 

Then there was a large box of Belgian chocolates and Greg moved to flick the switch on the kettle, and opened the bow on the box, the smell of chocolate meeting him. He took out one of the chocolates and let it melt in his mouth, humming in approvement. 

Today has been good, he thought, better than good, he had kissed Mycroft Holmes. 

He packed up the chocolates and put them in the press above the sink, and the wine on the empty wine rack in the corner. He didn’t remember where he had received it, he didn’t even drink wine that often. Greg whistled quietly, feeling lighter than he had in months and when the kettle had boiled he took down his favourite mug and made chamomile tea.

The chime of Greg’s message tone made Greg jump. He glanced at his watch a grimaced at the fact it was one in the morning. He rubbedhis eyes and placed a receipt into the book he had started hours ago. He hadn’t meant to get drawn in and distracted, but he clearly had, despite having to get up in a couple of hours.  
He uncurled from the sofa and walked over to his jacket where he had left his phone. Greg blinked a few times when he saw Mycroft’s name. Mycroft had never texted him before. 

_Home safe, will dream of you. M_

Greg stared at his screen until it went black. He felt a sudden surge of giddiness, warmth and fondness flowing through him. The message was so unexpected and the sentiment behind it more-so.He didn’t know if he should reply, what could he possibly say to convey just how strongly he felt. 

Instead of replying, he headed into his bedroom and finished packing his suitcase, managing to fit all his new books in. Then he went to get ready for bed. He would only get about three hours, but it was better than nothing. When he got into bed, he put his phone on his nightstand, then hesitantly picked it up and opened up Mycroft’s message again, a smile on his lips. 

_Sweet dreams, Myc._

* * *

 

Greg stared out the train window, watching the country pass by. He was smiling, and felt like he was freer than he had been in a long time. 

He had a steaming cup of coffee in front of him, and the few people that were sitting in his compartment were silent.  
He would spend some time looking at the scenery flash by, interspersed with reading. He was almost finished the first book, a retelling of Norse mythology, something interesting and different. There was a lightness in his chest that he had not felt in a long time, he was at peace.

 

When the train pulled into Waverly station, a rush of excitement ran through Greg. The sun was shining and when he picked up his case and walked out onto the platform, he raised his head to the sky and felt the sun on his skin. Before he went to Grassmarket to check-in to his hotel, he walked the short distance to Prince’s Street Gardens and found an empty bench, one facing the castle on the hill. The beauty of Edinburgh never failed to take his breath away.  
With his case beside him, he took out his book and decided to finish it there.

* * *

 

Greg had spent three incredibly relaxed days, filled with walking, sightseeing, the odd tour, and finished the days with a steaming bubble bath. The weather was amiable, and the overwhelming feeling of calmness had permeated his bones. He felt years younger, and this had only been three days away from the cesspool of stress that London had become. 

He had received two more texts from Mycroft that had left him admittedly stumped. 

One had been a simple, _Enjoy your holiday, Gregory. M,_ and the other one had come through while he was relaxing in the bath last night.

_Thinking about you. M_

Both texts were completely unexpected and sent a warmth through Greg’s body. 

 

Ever since their kiss, Greg had been thinking a lot, fantasising really. He had often thought about him and Mycroft in… _intimate_ situations in the last few years, but now, now it could actually happen. 

He had decided to go to to a café on the Royal Mile, where he could sit on the second floor and look down at the bustling life outside. He had ordered a large americano and a muffin and he was happily reading another book. He had only recently discovered the genius of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and when he had gotten through them, he discovered that another had been written by a different author, and was enjoying it just as much. While he sometimes read crime novels, he had found a liking for historical novels and fantasy; it was nice not to have to be in detective mode all the time. 

 

Greg had no idea how long he had been sitting down, but he heard a voice address him,  
“May I take this chair, if no one’s using it?”  
Greg barely glanced up from his novel, “Go ahead, mate.” He had expected the other person to bring the chair to a different table, so when Greg saw the shape of the man sitting down across from him, he frowned slightly, but said nothing.  
Then he saw a mug being slid across the table to him and he finally looked up properly.

Mycroft Holmes was opposite him, smiling gently, his eyes alight with amusement.   
“Sorry to disturb you from your reading.”  
“Mycroft!”Greg placed his book on the windowsill and reached across the table to touch Mycroft’s arm. “You’re here?”   
“Clearly.” Mycroft moved his hand to intertwine their fingers, grinning all the while.   
Greg took Mycroft in, and was surprised to realise that Mycroft was not wearing one of his usual bespoke suits, but a pair of brown chinos, an amber sweater vest, with a shirt and tie.   
“You look-“ Greg’s eyes continued to roam Mycroft’s body, “gorgeous. I’ve never seen you not in a suit.”   
Mycroft chuckled, “Anthea seemed to find a gap in my schedule, then gave me a flight ticket to Edinburgh. So technically, I am on holiday.”   
Greg stared at him in amazement, “Anthea?”   
“She seems to be quite invested in us.” Mycroft gestured at them both with his free hand.   
“How long are you here for?”  
“Three days. Then I’m wanted in parliament back in Westminster.”   
“So that means-“  
“I’m all yours, Gregory.” Mycroft interrupted, squeezing Greg’s hand. “Completely.” 

“Thank you for the coffee, by the way.” Greg murmured as he took a sip. He glanced over at Mycroft who was staring at him intently, a slight smile on his face.  
“Earth to Mycroft?”   
Mycroft refocused on Greg, blushing slightly. “You look wonderfully handsome.”   
Greg was taken aback by the unexpected compliment and snorted.  
Seeing Greg’s surprise, Mycroft shook his head, “You truly need to have a good look in the mirror.” He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, “I only recently discovered the phrase ‘silver fox’, but it is thoroughly you. I want to see all of you.”  
Greg felt a surge of arousal flow through him, he wanted nothing more. “We really need to do something about that.”   
Mycroft nodded, biting his bottom lip.   
“And our kiss was interrupted last time.” Greg’s voice had become raspy, “We need to finish that.”  
Mycroft’s face and neck were flushed and he reached out to grab Greg’s wrist. “Come back to my apartment?”   
“You have an apartment here?”  
“Less than five minutes walk away, if we leave now.” Mycroft’s eyes were dark and Greg wanted to close the distance between them and kiss Mycroft until they were both struggling for air. Instead, he rose and slipped his novel and wallet into his satchel, and followed Mycroft down the stairs. 

 

When they reached the cobbles, they walked side by side, arms brushing against each other every few steps. It was Mycroft that slipped his hand into Greg’s and Greg couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his lips. Mycroft seemed to notice, and cleared his throat.   
“How long, Gregory?”  
Greg stared at the slightly taller man, his smile faltering. “A little bit after we first met. Once I’d gotten over the anger about being abducted by you.” His face was grave. “I was married-I couldn’t-“  
Mycroft’s grip tightened on Greg’s hand, a grounding presence. “I know.” His voice was smooth, “I knew you couldn’t, despite how unfaithful your wife was. I knew you would never. Man of honour.” He guided Greg down a sidestreet. “I waited for you.” His voice was so quiet, Greg almost missed Mycroft’s words. 

Greg inhaled deeply, watching as Mycroft stopped in front of a door, and took his keys from his pocket. “Myc.” Greg whispered, as Mycroft pushed open the door and went to turn off the alarm.   
When he was done, he gestured for Gregory to cross the threshold, “What is it, Gregory?”  
“I’ve wasted so much time for us.” Greg’s voice quivered, and he tried to will away the tears that were stinging and threatening to fall.   
Mycroft’s answering smile was nothing like Greg had ever seen before; gentle and loving, full of understanding. It made Greg weak at the knees. Mycroft closed the door behind Greg and pushed Greg back against it.   
“Nonsense, Gregory.” He leaned in, kissing Greg’s neck. “You are worth every second.”  
Mycroft kissed his way up Greg’s neck, until he found Greg’s lips.  
The kiss started slow, and Greg moaned softly as Mycroft’s tongue slipped into his mouth and he was sure that he could feel Mycroft smile against his lips. 

Greg revelled in Mycroft’s taste, and felt himself shiver as Mycroft trailed his hands down his sides, to rest them on Greg’s hips. Their kiss evolved from gentleness, to something raw and longing. Greg fisted his hands in Mycroft’s sweater, holding him close. He heard Mycroft let out a quiet moan when his hands caressed Mycroft’s arse, pulling him up against him, feeling the unmistakable hardness of Mycroft against his thigh. Mycroft deftly moved his thigh between Greg’s legs, rubbing up against him. Greg held his breath, eyes closed tight. He bucked his hips to grind up against Mycroft again, longing for the friction.

Mycroft groaned and broke their kiss, sucking at his neck hungrily, and Greg knew he would leave a mark.   
“Myc-“ Greg moaned, his breath shaking as they continued to move against each other.  
Greg opened his eyes when he felt the absence of Mycroft’s lips against him, he was shocked to see Mycroft watching him, pupils blown wide, breathing heavily. “Bedroom?”  
Greg nodded enthusiastically, causing Mycroft to laugh lightly, he grabbed Greg’s hand and guided him up the stairs. 

Greg paid no attention to their surroundings, they went through the living room without seeing, and suddenly Mycroft had closed a door behind them and was pushing Greg onto his back against a soft mattress. “Move up.” Mycroft’s voice was rough, and his breathing heavy as they moved to the centre of the bed. Mycroft moved to straddle Greg’s thighs, leaning down over him, capturing his lips in another hungry kiss.  
Mycroft’s hands danced along the buttons of Greg’s shirt, unbuttoning it in no time and he heard Mycroft hum approvingly when he saw Greg’s bare skin. He ran a warm hand down through Greg’s sparse chest hair and rested that hand on Greg’s belt. 

“Please.” Greg whispered, staring up at Mycroft, his eyes dark, chest and face flushed red.  
“What do you want?” Mycroft’s voice was soft, his smooth palm tracing Greg’s jawline.  
Greg tried to raise himself onto his elbows. “You. Naked.”  
Mycroft smirked, “Your wish is my command.” He moved away from Greg, who whimpered at the loss of contact.  
Mycroft stood to toe off his shoes and made quick work of his trousers and underwear, amusement flooding him when he heard Greg’s sharp intake of breath. “ _Myc-_ “

Mycroft pulled his sweater vest over his head, dropping it onto the floor, following along with his shirt. He heard Greg move to stand up on shaking legs, and undid his own belt, ridding himself of his own trousers and underwear.  
“Mycroft Holmes, you are bloody glorious.” Greg pulled him into another wet kiss, rubbing up against him.  
They both moaned this time as their cocks brushed against each other, this time unheeded by their clothes. 

“I need you.” Greg murmured, breaking the kiss, urgency in his eyes.  
“How?” Mycroft’s voice was breathy as he guided Greg back onto the bed.  
Greg pulled Mycroft down on top of him again, longing for Mycroft’s warmth. “Take me, I need to feel you inside.”  
Mycroft let out a shaky breath, pressing his lips against Greg’s for a chaste kiss, “Anything for you.” He pulled away from Greg again, moving to take a bottle of lube out of the bedside drawer and a condom. Greg’s eyes followed him, heavy lidded. 

“I’m clean.” Greg’s voice was quiet, “I got tested a few weeks ago. We don’t need it.”  
Mycroft bit his bottom lip, “If you’re sure. I am also clean.”  
Greg nodded, “I want-no, need to feel you come inside me.”  
“Gregory Lestrade, you will be the death of me.” Mycroft murmured as he moved back over Gregory, trailing kisses from Greg’s lips down his neck, sucking at a spot near his collarbone. When Mycroft ran his tongue over one of Greg’s nipples, Greg gasped underneath him. 

One of Greg’s hands found it’s way into Mycroft’s hair, attempting to push Mycroft further down his body. “Please, Mycroft.” Greg begged. His own cock throbbed painfully.  
Mycroft chucked, dutifully kissing his way down Greg’s body.  
Greg let out a shout when he felt Mycroft’s warm mouth take in his erection. “Jesus christ.”  
Mycroft licked his way up Greg’s cock, laving his tongue around the tip, tasting Greg’s pre-come. He couldn’t help his own moan, reaching down to palm his own neglected cock.  
“Myc, I’m not going to last if you keep-just fuck me, _please_.”  
Mycroft pulled off Greg’s cock, and knelt between Greg’s legs, a smug smile on his face, feeling powerful. 

Greg spread his legs as wide as he could, breathless. Mycroft placed a kiss on Greg’s thigh before spreading some lube onto his fingers. “Tell me if it gets uncomfortable.”  
“Don’t worry.” Greg let out a breathless laugh. “Hurry up.”  
Mycroft slowly traced around Greg’s puckered hole, pushing in one finger slowly. Greg writhed underneath him and Mycroft cast him a worried glance, Greg only nodded encouragingly. 

When Mycroft thought Greg was ready, his thrust another finger into Greg, causing Greg to shout his name. He began a rhythm, slowly moving in and out, opening his lover up. He added his third finger and thrust a few times, Greg moaned loudly.  
“There!”  
Mycroft grinned, knowing he had grazed Greg’s prostate. He pulled his fingers out, hearing Greg whimper. He quickly spread the lube over his own leaking cock. He leant down over Greg again, and Greg curled his legs around Mycroft’s waist. Mycroft lined up with Greg and slowly entered Greg. Greg’s eyes widened, looking directly into Mycroft’s own eyes, and Mycroft felt like there was a fire running through his veins. He stilled for a moment once he was fully seated. Greg was so tight around him, Mycroft felt lightheaded at his pleasure.  
“ _Please._ ” Greg moaned, his blunt nails digging into Mycroft’s back. 

Mycroft leaned forward, pressing his lips against’s Greg’s, tongue sliding across Greg’s bottom lip, begging for entry.  
Greg’s mouth opened in the form of a moan as Mycroft started moving, allowing Mycroft to deepen their kiss. Mycroft started with slow thrusts, aiming to record of every detail of this experience.  
Greg could feel his heart beat alarmingly fast, and he tried to gasp for breath every time their lips broke away from each other. As Mycroft started moving faster, Greg closed his eyes, feeling warmth pool in his stomach as he heard Mycroft’s quiet groans.  
Greg slid one of his hands in between them and began stroking his own cock with an urgency he had never felt before. 

“ _Mycroft!”_ Greg shouted, feeling an intense surge of pleasure spread through his veins as Mycroft hit his prostate. He gasped again as Mycroft’s teeth grazed against his shoulder. Greg could feel himself nearing his orgasm, with every thrust Mycroft seemed to be hitting that spot, and he could feel his legs begin to shake.  
“I’m-“ Greg’s words were interrupted by his moan as he came,his cum spattering over his stomach, upon opening his eyes, he was met with Mycroft breathless, watching him intensely.  
“Gregory-“ Mycroft sounded desperate, he buried his face in Greg’s neck, his hips stuttering, giving one last thrust, he moaned loudly and Greg could feel Mycroft come inside him, shaking and breathless.

Greg held Mycroft against him, gently running his fingers across his bare skin.  
Mycroft placed a kiss on Greg’s shoulder, and when he seemed to be over the aftershocks, he slowly pulled out of Greg, collapsing onto his side.  
Greg turned to his side, facing Mycroft, chests touching. He felt weak at seeing the smile that had blossomed across Mycroft’s face, a comforting warmth spreading through him. 

He felt safe and loved for the first time in a very long time, and he closed the small space between them, pressing a light kiss on Mycroft’s lips. 

“I’ll just get something to clean us up.” Mycroft murmured, sitting up to go to the bathroom. He returned with a damp towel and climbed back into bed, cleaning them up as best as he could, before tossing it off the bed, in order to wrap his arms around Greg’s waist.  
They lay chest-to-chest in a comfortable silence for what seemed like forever, holding each other and watching each other sleepy-eyed in their post-coital bliss.  
Greg moved his arm so that he could trail his fingers across Mycroft’s cheek and jawline. 

“Mycroft?”  
“Hm?” Mycroft opened his eyes to meet Greg’s, his thumb tracing circles on Greg’s hip.  
Greg took a shaky breath, “I love you.”  
Mycroft’s hand stilled, and Greg panicked. “Shit, I shouldn’t have-“  
“Shh.” Mycroft whispered, cutting Greg off with a gentle kiss. “I love you too.”

Greg’s heart skipped a beat, he had dreamed of hearing Mycroft say those words but he never thought it would ever happen. He could feel tears sting his eyes and Mycroft brushed a stray tear from his cheek.  
“You are worth the wait, Gregory. I hope you know I’m never going to let go.” Mycroft’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, carding his fingers through Greg’s hair, waiting for the tension to fall from his shoulders. “Now sleep, love.” He whispered, resting his forehead against Greg’s, feeling Greg’s arm tighten around his waist.

* * *

 

The morning light flooded in through the gap in the curtains and Greg stirred. He was warm and momentarily did a double take when he realised that there were arms wrapped around him. When he opened his eyes, he was immediately met by the top of Mycroft’s head, resting on his chest, hair in disarray. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Happiness flooded through him like static in his veins as he listened to Mycroft’s slow and even breathing. Memories of last night flitted through his minds-eye and he could feel a familiar heat run through his body, causing him to blush when Mycroft stirred. 

Greg slowly ran his fingers down Mycroft’s bare back, causing the younger man to shiver against him.  
“Gregory.” Mycroft groaned, his voice thick with sleep. “Cold.”  
Greg chuckled, “Morning, Myc.”  
“Shhh.” Mycroft murmured, his breath hot across Greg’s chest. He moved the hand that was around Greg’s waist to cover his own face, and Greg could only laugh.  
“Myc, my arm is dead and I need the bathroom. Move? Please?”  
Mycroft’s answering sigh was almost theatrical as he untangled himself from Greg, “Satisfactory?” He sounded more coherent, but still had not managed to open his eyes.  
“Perfect.” Greg whispered as he leaned in to kiss Mycroft on the cheek quickly, seeing a smile spread across Mycroft’s face in response, but other than that he didn’t move again as Greg left the bed. 

 

When Greg came out of the bathroom, he noticed a familiar suitcase on the floor and walked over to it, frowning. “Mycroft?”  
“Come back to bed.” Was the reply he received from the lump under the duvet.  
“Is…is this my suitcase?” Greg cautiously turned the label around, seeing his name.  
Mycroft sat up in bed, blinking in an effort to see. “Yes, I got it from your hotel, I hope you don’t mind.”  
Greg was silent for a second before he laughed, it was bizarre, what else could he do?  
“So you knew I’d be staying with you?”  
“Well, I truly hoped so.”  
Greg smiled across the room. “I don’t know what to say.”  
“‘Thank you’, perhaps? Now that you have a change of clothes, etcetera.” Mycroft watched him carefully, “Now, please, come back to bed.”  
“Would you like me to make breakfast?”  
“I would like you to come over here and kiss me.”  
“Can’t argue with that.” Greg grinned as he made his way back to the bed. Mycroft had already lay down again, his heavy-lidded eyes watching Greg carefully, purposely staring at Greg’s nakedness, making him blush as he pulled the duvet back over them. 

Greg turned onto his side so that he was facing Mycroft, and couldn’t help the smile that had developed at the sight.  
“You’re gorgeous, you know?” Mycroft’s voice was a whisper, and he gently caressed Greg’s cheek, before pulling him into a gentle kiss.  
When he pulled away, Greg noted that Mycroft’s face looked so unguarded,he was truly Mycroft right now. Suddenly, Mycroft yawned and Greg laughed quietly.  
“I always held the impression that you were a morning person, but clearly you’re not.”  
Mycroft rolled his eyes in a typically Mycroftian way and Greg felt a fondness run through him at the familiar expression. It was something Greg had witnessed Mycroft do, even at the very beginning, when he had just started working with Sherlock.  
“Usually you would be correct. But I am on holiday for the first time in longer than I’d care to remember. Plus,” He added, trailing a hand down Greg’s bare back, causing him to shiver. Mycroft responded with a smirk, “I also have _the_ Gregory Lestrade in my bed with me, at long last. I believe I have the right to indulge.”  
“Well in that case, I won't object.”

“Wonderful.” Mycroft hummed, leaning in to catch greg’s lips in another kiss, this one more urgent and heated. The hand that was resting on the small of Greg’s back pulled Greg closer, and he moaned into the kiss when he felt Mycroft flush and hot against his skin.  
Greg trailed his hand through Mycroft’s already messy hair, cursing when Mycroft broke their kiss and trailed down Greg’s neck, sucking and worrying a spot of skin by his collarbone.  “I’m going to treasure you, Gregory.” Mycroft’s voice was husky and it sent a thrill of arousal through Greg’s body. 

Mycroft suddenly manoeuvred them so that Greg was on his back and he was on top of him. He leaned in again to kiss Greg, revelling in the taste.  
Greg’s hands trailed down Mycroft’s back, cupping his arse and holding him close as he moved his hips, their lips parted to let out heavy breaths, quiet moans.  
Greg rocked his hips in an attempt to create friction between them, their cocks heavy against each other.  
_“Fuck.”_ Greg was already breathless as Mycroft slowly made his way down Greg’s body, kissing Greg’s sensitive skin, nipping at the skin here and there.  
One of Greg’s hands found its way into Mycroft’s hair, pulling slightly and Mycroft glanced up at Greg under his lashes, a smirk on his face. 

Mycroft relished the moan that escaped from Greg when he wrapped his hand around the base of Greg’s cock, before taking it into his mouth.  
“Myc-“ Greg breathed as Mycroft paid particular attention to the tip of Greg’s cock. Greg bucked his hips as Mycroft licked up the underside of the other man’s cock. He spread his free hand across Greg’s stomach, in an attempt to keep him still.  
Mycroft couldn’t help but to moan when Greg’s fingers tightened in his hair, taking Greg deeper into his mouth. 

Mycroft started to set up a rhythm, bobbing his head up and down in tandem with light strokes. His own cock was painfully hard, between the noises Greg was making and the taste of Greg on his tongue, he felt delirious.  
The younger man demonstrated his lack of a gag reflex by taking Greg in deeply and Greg shouted out his name.  
“I’m close.” Greg panted, and Mycroft let go of Greg’s cock to stroke his own erection that was already dripping with pre-come, while still managing to suck Greg’s cock.

Greg’s fingers were almost painful in Mycroft’s hair as he came moaning Mycroft’s name. Mycroft swallowed, moaning as he came close to his own climax.  
“C’mere.” Greg’s voice was husky and Mycroft felt another surge of arousal flow through him. As he quickened his pace, he made eye contact with the other man and it was Greg’s hushed, “Come for me.” That brought him over the edge.

* * *

 

Greg came into the kitchen, his hair still damp, but dressed in a shirt and jeans. A genuine smile spread across his face when he saw Mycroft putting their food on the plates in front of them.  
“I didn’t realise just how hungry I was until now.” Greg rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he sat down before the fry that Mycroft had prepared while he was in the shower.  
Mycroft grinned in response, “Feeling good?”  
“The best I have in years.” Greg reached his hand out and placed it on Mycroft’s arm, squeezing slightly, “and you?”  
“Like I’m dreaming. But better.”  
Greg chuckled, moving to pick up his fork. He looked across the table, making eye contact with Mycroft. “You know I love you, right? I didn’t just say it in the heat of the moment, I-“  
“Of course, Gregory. And I you. I never imagined I would ever be able to hear you say it, let alone myself saying it back.”  
“In that case, I’ll make sure to say it as often as I can.” Greg’s voice was full of emotion and he felt a warmth in his chest; admiration and love.

“What were some of your plans before I arrived and interrupted your holiday?” Mycroft asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them as they ate.  
“Well, I was thinking about climbing Arthur’s Seat, how about it?”  
Mycroft’s expression of pure horror resulted in Greg’s laughter echoing around the kitchen.  
Greg placed his hand on top of Mycroft’s, tears of laughter in his eyes. “You don’t have to look so frightened. It’s only a hill.”  
A blush had crept up onto Mycroft’s cheeks, “I don’t believe I have appropriate climbing shoes in my possession.”  
“And you think I do?” Greg asked, amusement clear on his features. 

“I have a compromise.” Mycroft murmured, looking down at their hands.  
“Go ahead.”  
“We go to Calton Hill. You still get a view of the city, and you can even see Arthur’s Seat. Then Itake you to my favourite café.”  
“Sounds fair enough to me. You know how to win me over with coffee, my weakness is exposed” He said teasingly as he squeezed Mycroft’s hand, “Lets get ready then.”

As Mycroft was at the bottom of the stairs by the door, putting on his coat, Greg jogged down the stairs, throwing his coat on over his shoulders. “C’mere.”  
He pulled Mycroftclose to him by the collars of his coat, placing a kiss on his lips. “Ready for this almighty trek?”  
Mycroft dropped his head, causing Greg to chuckle and put his finger under Mycroft’s chin to lift his head. “Shush, I'm only teasing.”  
He pressed another kiss onto Mycroft’s lips, and Mycroft hummed against him. 

Mycroft tightened his grip on Greg’s arms, easily pushing him back against the wall, effectively deepening their kiss. When Greg managed to pull away for breath he shook his head, “Nope. Nope. Outside now.”  
Mycroft actually pouted, and Greg could only laugh. Caressing Mycroft’s cheek, Greg said as authoritatively as he could, “Later.”  
He could feel his resolve shattering and he knew that if he stayed here any longer under Mycroft’s intense gaze, they would definitely have sex again, sod the walk. Greg also knew that Mycroft had guessed as much and felt a wave of relief when Mycroft turned to open the front door.  
After all, he did come to Edinburgh to actually see it, not that he was complaining at the new twist in events. 

 

They walked beside each other, arms brushing against each other now and then, until Mycroft took Greg’s hand and held it, gently moving his thumb in calming circles over the back of Greg’s palm.  
“You pickedthe right time to come here.” Mycroft murmured, passing by a small group of tourists as they huddled together to try and hear their tour guide. “The Fringe Festivals bring in hoards of people."  
Greg grimaced as they continued on, “Made that mistake once. Told myself never again.”  
“I do like the fireworks though.” Mycroft said absently, making eye contact with Greg, causing a smile to cross his lips. “Quite romantic, I believe.”  
“You’ll need to prove that at some point.” Greg teased, he himself had not had any recent romance under fireworks. New Year’s Eve had been miserable in his marriage for quite a few years, he had taken shifts just to avoid it. He had long stopped associating them with romance and new beginnings. He would like that to change.  
“Don’t worry; as I have previously mentioned, I am going to cherish you, Gregory. Fireworks and all.” 

 

When they got to Calton Hill, and climbed the slight incline Greg glanced around them, a smile spreading across his face. “I forgot how beautiful it was here.”  
Mycroft squeezed his hand, “It’s been years since I’ve come up here.” He glanced around, “I believe the observatory is being renovated.”  
Greg nodded, walking across the grass. They reached the Stewart monument, and they stood side by side, staring out over the city.  
“It’s hard to believe that’s a bustling city.” Greg murmured, “It’s so peaceful up here.”  
Mycroft hummed in agreement, before lowering his head to press a kiss to Greg’s cheek.  
Greg raised an eyebrow in surprise, meeting Mycroft’s even gaze.  
“I did say I would treasure you.” Mycroft’s voice was quiet, but there was a slight smile on his lips. “You look happier than I believe I’ve ever seen you.”  
“I feel ecstatic. Thanks to you.” Greg cupped Mycroft’s cheek, and leaned forward to kiss Mycroft lightly, before pulling back, a wide smile on his face.  
Mycroft wrapped an arm around Greg’s waist, as they started moving again. “Let’s go see your beloved Arthur’s Seat.”

There was an old iron bench sitting directly across from Arthur’s Seat, leaving a wonderful view. From the bench, you could even make out shapes progressing up the mountain. Greg sat down close to Mycroft, their legs touching and Mycroft had his arm across the back of the bench, where his hand rested on Greg’s shoulder.  
Tourists came and went, Greg was internally thankful that there weren’t many.  
Some passed in front of them, casting glances here and there. Negative or otherwise, it made Greg thoughtful.

“Myc?”  
“Everything alright?”  
Greg squeezed Mycroft’s thigh reassuringly. “What happens with us when we get back to the real world?”  
“I was unaware that we had entered an alternate reality, Gregory.”  
Greg couldn't help but smile, even a little at that. “Do we have to be secretive?”

Mycroft tilted his head, a thoughtful expression on his face. “In case you had forgotten, our first kiss was out in the open on a busy London road.” But he frowned when he noticed the worried expression on Greg’s face. He moved his arm from behind Greg so that he could hold the other man’s hand.  
“The level of security around you will be heightened, whether we choose to go public or not. I'm sure you are aware that there would be a higher risk? To your safety, I mean. People may want to use you against me.”  
Greg’s frown deepened. “As in they may try to abduct me?”  
Mycroft nodded, “A colleague’s spouse was put to ransom a little while ago. They were fine, but I do not want to lie to you, Gregory. I am a powerful man and an essential part of the British government, there is always going to be a risk there, whether on my own life or those I love.”  
“Makes sense, I'd guessed as much.” 

“You are also in an important position in your job, I will leave whether you want to go public or not up to you, I would just hate to see your career or your chances of promotion tainted by the fact you are in a relationship with another man.”  
Greg met Mycroft's gaze, “You've thought about this a lot.”  
Mycroft forced a smile, “I have. Prejudice is still rife in society. Unfortunate but true nonetheless.” 

Greg leaned in to kiss Mycroft on the cheek, “I love you, the rest will have to deal with that. I just have one major worry.”  
“Tell me.”  
“Sherlock, um, will he be alright?”  
Mycroft took Greg off-guard by chuckling. “I'm afraid he has absolutely no say in the matter. Although, he has commented about our obvious infatuation with each other in the past. So I shouldn't think he'd be very much surprised.”  
Greg then laughed, a blush spreading high on his cheeks, “As long as he doesn't go deducing our sex life, all will be well.”  
Mycroft's answering laughter was music to Greg’s ears, and he tightened his grip on Mycroft’s hand.

* * *

“It smells godly in here.” Greg murmured as he followed Mycroft into a small café off of Prince’s Street.  
There were people at nearly every tiny table, and the two barista’s behind the long counter were talking quietly to each other. One of the women glanced up when she heard the chime of the bell above the door and she seemed to recognise Mycroft, smiling she waved at him.

Greg felt the pressure of Mycroft’s hand on his lower back as he guided him to a table in the corner, away from general view. Greg grinned as Mycroft pulled out the chair for him.  
“Gentlemanly.” Greg murmured, only loud enough for Mycroft to hear, “If I was in a period novel, I’d be swooning now.”  
Mycroft snorted as he sat down across from Greg, but before he could reply, the barista came over to them.  
“Mycroft!” Her voice was gentle, her Scottish accent coming through. “No Anthea today?”  
Mycroft smiled serenely, “She’s back in London, I’m afraid.”  
The girl’s face fell, and she tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. “I haven’t seen her in ages.”  
Mycroft nodded once, not offering any other information and Greg raised an eyebrow. 

“Anyhow, what would you two like to drink?” She asked, taking out a mini notepad.  
“I’ll have a skinny cappuccino please, Freya.” Mycroft glanced across at Greg, “Gregory?”  
Freya turned to Greg, a slight smile on her lips,  
“Oh, an americano would be great, no milk though, please.”  
“Fantastic.” She said as she disappeared again. 

Greg looked across at Mycroft, “What was that about?”  
Mycroft chuckled, “Freya appears to have a terrible ‘crush’ on Anthea.” He shook his head, “Anthea started to avoid it here, despite the excellent coffee after an admittedly horrendous attempt at flirting.”  
Greg bit his lip, trying not to laugh out loud. “I don’t think I could actually imagine that.”  
“Here are your drinks!” Freya placed the mugs on the table and then looked from Mycroft to Greg and back. “Anthea is still working for you?”  
Mycroft nodded once, noticing her glance again at Greg in confusion. “Ah…business then?”  
“Romance actually, Freya.” Mycroft said placidly, not failing to notice the blush that was beginning to spread across Greg’s cheeks.  
“Oh. _Oh!_ I’ll leave you two alone then.” She mumbled, flustered and embarrassed. 

“Romance.” Greg echoed, cheeks red as he met Mycroft’s gaze.  
Greg stiffened as he felt Mycroft’s foot trail deliberately along his leg. He raised an eyebrow, and Mycroft’s answering smirk made the heat surge through his veins.  
“Drink your coffee, I have a gift for you back at the apartment.”  
“You’re not helping.” Greg muttered as Mycroft’s leg brushed against him again, Mycroft winked as Greg picked up his mug. 

 

The cold air met them both as they left the warm cafe behind them.  
“Possibly one of the best cups of coffee I’ve had recently. Thank you.” Greg said as he sought out Mycroft’s hand to hold.  
Mycroft smiled triumphantly, “Many more places all around the world that I need to show you.”  
“You know where we still need to go?”  
Mycroft frowned, “I don’t think so?”  
At the unfamiliar sound of uncertainty in Mycroft’s voice, Greg squeezed his hand reassuringly. “The Writer’s Museum.”  
Mycroft hummed in approval, “Tomorrow, perhaps?”  
“Sounds like a plan.” Greg grinned, another genuine smile crossing his face. “Also, you do know that you don’t have to get me anything, right?”  
Mycroft chuckled, “It’s small, but literature related. I hope you’ll like it.”  
They walked through Prince’s Street Gardens again, smiling at the people picnicking on the grass, agreeing that in fact, they needed to do that before they both returned to London.  Tomorrow, more things to do.  
Excitement settled in both their chests.

* * *

 

Greg followed Mycroft through the front door, and glanced at Mycroft in confusion, “Is that…food?”  
Mycroft who was ridding himself of his coat, sniffed the air and smiled appreciatively. “It is indeed. You didn’t think I was going to deny you dinner, did you?”  
“But how?”  
“Trusted housekeeper called Aoife. She called when we were out.” Mycroft moved to help Greg out of his coat,leaning in to kiss the bare skin on Greg’s neck. Greg turned in Mycroft’s arms and slid his hands up to Mycroft’s shoulders, one hand straying to Mycroft’s neck, pulling him closer until their lips met.  
Greg could feel Mycroft smile against his lips, as his hands at the base of Greg’s back, pulled him closer, causing them both to moan.  
A s Greg attempted to deepen the kiss, Mycroft pulled away, resulting in a pouting Greg.  
Mycroft’s eyes were shining with amusement, “Come with me.”  
Greg followed Mycroft into the sitting room, which he had not paid any attention to beforehand.  
“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.” Mycroft murmured as he disappeared towards the bedroom.  
Admittedly, Greg was extremely tempted to follow him, but managed to stay seated.

Mycroft returned a few minutes later with what looked like a book that had been neatly wrapped up. Greg raised an eyebrow, watching Mycroft curiously, as though waiting for an explanation.  
Mycroft sat down beside Greg, their legs touching. “I hope you like it.” He said softly, as he handed Greg the small present. Greg opened it carefully, uncovering what looked like a well-used vintage novel. He turned it around, curiosity running through him.

_De Profundis, Oscar Wilde._

“Wow.” Greg whispered in awe. He noticed that there was something in the book and he opened it carefully, he could feel Mycroft watching him. When Greg opened the book, he discovered a pressed green carnation placed between two pages, Greg gingerly touched the delicate flower, before noticing that some of the text underneath it was lightly underlined in pencil. 

_With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?_

Greg looked up to meet Mycroft’s gaze in awe, speechless.  
Mycroft lay his hand gently on top of Greg’s hand. “That night we went for coffee before you left London, I said that something you had said reminded me of Wilde, remember?”  
“Of course.” Greg breathed, looking back down at the yellowing pages and the green carnation. “This is…I’m lost for words.”  
“Some hold the opinion that _De Profundis_ is one of the greatest love letters of all time.” Mycroft’s voice was soft with the hint of a smile, “I thought it was appropriate.”  
Greg let out a breath, his fingers tracing over the underlined words. “Thank you so much.” He looked up at Mycroft again, eyes shining.  
Mycroft leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on Greg’s lips. 

Greg glanced again at the yellowing pages, “How long have you had this?” He asked, carefully turning to the first few pages, looking for the publication information. It was from the 1960s.  
“I picked it up while I was in university in a second hand store. I was surprised at how old it was, it’s the version that was published after the original manuscript had been examined in the British Museum. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve read it.” Mycroft’s smile was fond as Greg carefully closed the book and placed it on the coffee table in front of them.  
“I never imagined I’d find someone I’d ever gift it to.” He murmured, caressing Greg’s cheek. Greg shook his head, “It’s truly the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received.” He leant forward to kiss Mycroft, pulling him close. “Thank you.” He whispered against Mycroft’s lips.

Greg’s hands ran through Mycroft’s hair, keeping Mycroft close to him as he deepened the kiss. Mycroft let out a quiet moan and Greg felt a surge of arousal burn through him.  
“I love you.” He breathed when they pulled apart to take a breath. Greg slid his hands onto Mycroft’s chest, undoing the younger man’s shirt buttons, while he trailed kisses down the newly exposed skin.Greg heard Mycroft’s breath catch when he pushed Mycroft’s shirt off his shoulders.  
Greg grinned across at Mycroft’s flushed face.  
“So,” Mycroft attempted to speak, looking amused. "Wilde would be proud."  
Greg laughed quietly, “I would truly hope so."  
“Kiss me again.” Mycroft breathed.  
Greg leant forward, lips brushing against Mycroft's, "Anything for you."

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from 'Everywhere', by Fleetwood Mac.  
> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://lostallsenseofcontrol.tumblr.com/).


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